Arthur. Oh, yes, I see, sir. The spikes of the rye are neither so fine nor so long as in the barley.
Mr. Mansfield. Very true again. So you see you need never mistake between them. The straw of the rye is the longest, but the beard (you should not call it the spikes) is shorter and coarser.
Arthur. I think the long beard of the barley gives it rather a silky look, as it waves about with the wind. Pray, grandpapa, is barley sown to make bread too?
Mr. Mansfield. Sometimes it is used for that purpose; but the greatest part of what we grow in England is for making beer.
Arthur. Beer! Is it possible that barley can make beer? Do you know, sir, how it is done?
Mr. Mansfield. Yes; and you shall hear, if you wish to know. All grain is the seed of the plant; and before it can be put to any use it must be taken out of the ear. Now, to do that, it is thrashed with an instrument called a flail. I suppose you have seen one, have you not?
Arthur. I remember once passing at some distance from a barn, where a man was swinging something about, that looked like a bent stick; and he beat the ground with it, and somebody said he was thrashing.
Mr. Mansfield. That he certainly was. The corn was spread upon the barn-floor, and he was beating out the grain with a flail. The next business is to separate it from the chaff, or outside skin. This is sometimes done by turning a machine very quickly so as to cause a wind, which blows away the chaff, for it is as light as a feather. A more simple method is, to throw the corn across from one side of the barn to the other, against the wind. The chaff, being so light, is soon blown back, whilst the corn goes on a little further, and falls in a heap by itself.
Arthur. But, dear grandpapa, what has this to do with making beer?